<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>As We Discover by butterflyslinky</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28700373">As We Discover</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky'>butterflyslinky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gotham Fairytales [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Bluebeard Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Human Trafficking, Nightmares, Past Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:47:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28700373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When her best friend goes missing, Barbara finds herself embroiled in a mystery involving her friend, her new lover, and the death of her father.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harvey Dent/Barbara Gordon, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gotham Fairytales [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/865080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Gotham Fairy Tales</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Takes place concurrently to "As We Triumph."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It wasn’t that Barbara minded being left behind. She had no business in Sataria and it was best for someone to remain in Gotham to manage the companies. Really, she didn’t mind not going to Sataria.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Wayne Manor was so quiet with everyone else gone. So much empty space. So many silent rooms. How had Bruce ever managed to live here alone? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he hadn’t really been alone, had he? He had Alfred there to guide him, or for the brief time Alfred was gone, he had Dicky and Jim and Talia. But Alfred wouldn’t let Bruce go to Sataria without him, and the rest of the staff only came in during the day when Barbara was away, and she’d never liked the idea of a personal bodyguard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course, there was no Jim anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sighed and stared at her computer. She had been spending more and more time at her office at Wayne Enterprises, unwilling to spend more time than necessary in the empty manor. She wished that someone, anyone, would come home. Four months in an empty house, an empty office…that would drive anyone crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock on her office door and Maggie stuck her head in. “Dr. Quinzel’s here,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Send her in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley came in, Lucy trailing behind her. She smiled at Barbara. “Hello, Babs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Barbara said. “What brings you here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing much,” Harley said. “Lucy and I were shopping and she wanted to see you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara smiled at Lucy. “Well, that was very nice of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy nodded eagerly. “We got new shoes!” she said, showing them off on her tiny feet. “And Mommy said we could see you and maybe you’d come have lunch with us!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara laughed. “Well, I was about to go to lunch,” she said. “Why don’t we all go together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went to the nearby café and sat down. Lucy was chattering away about everything that a four-year-old could talk about, making Barbara laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Lucy started winding down, though, Harley frowned slightly at Barbara. “I’m worried about you,” she said bluntly. “You’re all alone in that big manor and you don’t socialize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sighed. “I miss my family,” she admitted. “But…well, it’s easier just to keep working.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to go out,” Harley said. “Look up some of your friends. Live a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. “You’re right,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re having dinner with me and Ivy next week,” Harley said. “And every week until they come home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Doctor,” Barbara said. “I’d like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara knew Harley was right, which is how she found herself dialing Alysia’s number on Friday night. Alysia had been her best friend in college, and was exactly the sort of person who was right to call for a distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alysia barely heard three words before she said she’d be at the manor in ten minutes. Sure enough, she arrived quickly, already dressed for a night out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girls’ night,” she declared. “You need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked. “I mean…I was just thinking we’d turn on Cake Boss…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re turning into Bruce,” Alysia said. “A night out won’t kill you. We can find a few cute boys…do something reckless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara laughed. “All right, but you’re buying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the spirit!” Alysia grinned. “Now go put on that green dress that shows off your legs and then I’ll work my magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara fetched the dress and changed quickly. She sat down at the dressing table and Alysia grabbed the curling iron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still can’t believe they all went,” Alysia mumbled as she worked on Barbara’s hair. “I was making progress seducing your brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick’s still with Wally,” Barbara said. “He’s just as inconsolable as you are over them leaving the country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should invite him then,” Alysia said. “Make sure he’s good enough for our Dicky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is,” Barbara said. “And they don’t need our approval.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Barbara said. “He’ll just mope over Dicky and cramp our style.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alysia laughed. “Fair enough.” She grabbed a makeup brush. “Now hold still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bar was louder and more crowded than Barbara usually liked, but it was one of Alysia’s favorites, plenty of handsome and wealthy young men looking for companionship. Alysia immediately pulled Barbara over to the bar and ordered two shots of whiskey. They sat down at the bar, both trying to look as pretty as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any prospects?” Barbara asked, scanning the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm…” Alysia looked over. “Don’t see any tens…but I’ll wait for the fives to come ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara settled in, waiting. Sure enough, it didn’t take long before a young man wandered over, not the handsomest Barbara had seen, but his confident smile gave her some hope. “Care to dance, ginger?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Barbara let him lead her out on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice, to dance with a stranger, to just lose herself in music and alcohol. The empty manor and absent family faded to a dull ache. She glanced over to grin at Alysia, only to see her friend had been conducted to the floor by an older man, with a burn over half his face. Still, Alysia seemed happy to dance with him, so Barbara turned her attention back to her own partner easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara passed through a few partners through the night, but Alysia seemed happy to stay with the same partner. Near midnight, Alysia gave Barbara a signal both of them knew well. Barbara raised her eyebrows, but didn’t object. If Alysia wanted to go home with an older man, well, that wasn’t her business.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara shook off the offer from the slightly drunk young man she was dancing with and slipped out to get a cab home. As she stumbled back into the manor, slightly tipsy and punched up on adrenaline, she couldn’t help but giggle. Yes, a night out was just the thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara woke near noon. She groaned and rolled over to grab her phone. There were no messages from Alysia, or anyone, not unusual but Barbara was slightly worried about her friend going off with a stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where are you at?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she texted before she dragged herself out of bed, more than a little hungover, and headed to the kitchen, missing Alfred more than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was mid-afternoon before Barbara felt human again. She still hadn’t gotten a response from Alysia, which was mildly concerning—then again, they didn’t live in each other’s pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she did have the right to be concerned, so she dialed the phone. It went straight to voicemail, making Barbara frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lys, let me know you didn’t go home with a serial killer,” she said before she hung up and went back to her laptop. She had several work projects to get wrapped up before Monday anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim put down the last box in the living room. “Well, Babs, what do you think?” he asked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs looked up, grinning her gap-toothed smile. “It’s wonderful, Daddy!” she said. “The best house!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The very best for my little girl,” Jim said. He scooped Babs up in his arms and kissed her temple. “We’re going to be so happy here, aren’t we?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs nodded, but she started sucking on her fist. “I’ll miss Mommy,” she confessed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim gently extracted her hand. “I will, too,” he said. “But she’s still watching over us…people we love never really leave. They take care of us in ways we don’t understand.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs nodded again. “Can we go visit her later?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim swallowed. “Of course,” he said. “Once we’re unpacked, we’ll go visit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay.” Babs kissed Jim’s cheek. “Love you, Daddy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Love you too, Babs.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara jerked awake. She had fallen asleep on her keyboard, a line of incomprehensible text blinking at her from the monitor. She sighed—clearly last night had gone longer than she thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced at the time and groaned. Almost eight—she would have a hell of a time sleeping tonight. Briefly, she thought about rifling through Dick’s room to see if he had any sleeping pills left over, but dismissed it. The pills themselves were harmless, but after everything that had happened the year before, the idea of them still creeped her out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She picked up her phone. Still no answer from Alysia. Barbara was definitely worried now. She didn’t like to be a mother hen, but this was ridiculous. Alysia could usually be depended to at least tell her to fuck off—she rarely turned her phone off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara bit her lip. She would go over tomorrow—see if Alysia was home, or at any of her usual haunts. If she didn’t find her, she would notify the police.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, that was the best solution. Thirty-six hours was enough time to determine someone was missing. And if Alysia was missing, well, it wouldn’t be too hard to find someone with a burn like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it’s been how long since you saw her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About thirty-six hours…she left the bar on Friday with a man I don’t know.” Barbara was trying to keep her voice steady as the officer questioned her. She hadn’t found Alysia anywhere and there was still no call. “I tried calling…her phone is off or dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did the man she left with look like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was older…not that I’m judging…about fifty. Greying dark hair. And he had a burn over the left half of his face.” Barbara’s brow creased. Saying it aloud felt…familiar somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer, who seemed to be younger than she was, smiled a bit. “We’ll do what we can, Miss Gordon-Wayne,” he said. “But your friend is probably fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said. “I just worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you go have a nice cup of cocoa?” the officer said, rather condescendingly. “We’ll call if anything turns up…have you tried talking to her family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She has none,” Barbara said. “Or at least, none that she talks to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ll keep you informed.” The officer turned before he glanced back, a slight frown on his face. “Gordon…as in Detective James Gordon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara swallowed. The last thing she needed to be reminded of right now was him. “He was my father,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen his plaque,” the officer said. “He sounds like he was a good man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara closed her eyes. “The best,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer nodded and left the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara collapsed on the couch. More than fifteen years and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were some days when she could go without thinking about it. Days when she could almost forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Bruce would look at her a little too long with sad eyes, or Dick would hug her a little too tight. She still couldn’t stand the sound of gunshots on TV, still couldn’t read the crime pages of the Gazette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a strange way, Barbara felt she hadn’t even mourned him. She’d only been to his grave during the funeral, which she barely even remembered. She had been too shocked to comprehend it, too upset for any of it to be more than a blur in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce had offered to take her, of course, but she always refused. If she went to the grave, even now…that would make it real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than ever, she wished someone would come home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crying alone was never nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley knew something was wrong the moment Barbara arrived on Thursday. She didn’t ask any questions, just guided Barbara inside and sat her down with a cup of tea. Only when Barbara was a bit calmer did she start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friend Alysia’s gone missing,” Barbara said. “She went off with a guy on Friday night and I haven’t heard from her since. I told the police, but they don’t seem to be taking it seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley frowned. “That’s not good…even if they didn’t at first, six days is a long time for someone to not answer a phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said. “Especially her…she never puts the thing down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know who she left with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara shook her head. “Older man…old enough to be her father, come to think of it…burn over half his face…don’t suppose you know anyone like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley stared for a moment before she stood up. “Pam!” she called.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam appeared in the doorway, a dish towel still in hand. “What is it, Harls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you throw out the paper from this morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not yet…it’s on the counter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley hurried into the kitchen and grabbed it, flipping through it. “Aha…here.” She shoved the paper at Barbara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crime section. Barbara felt her stomach clench as she looked down at the photo running across the top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s him!” she said. “I’m positive.” She scanned the caption and her stomach dropped completely. “District Attorney Harvey Dent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve met him a few times,” Pam said. “City council meetings…he’s not exactly keen on enforcing environmental regulations.” She sounded disgusted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not keen on helping with domestic disputes, either,” Harley added. “Half the girls at the Foundation could use his help, but good luck getting it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara hummed. “Environmental and domestic law don’t win elections,” she said. “He wants the big things…shootings and robberies and such.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asshole,” Pam muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley tsked. “Language, Pammy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucy’s not here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Harley continued. “Just because your friend left with him doesn’t mean he’s the reason for her disappearance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but he’s still the most likely suspect,” Barbara said. “No wonder the police aren’t doing anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam snorted. “Police are useless as a rule,” she said. “Good and honest men don’t get to be on the force long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara looked down, the tears starting again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Babs,” Harley said. “She didn’t mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re right,” Barbara said. “Good and honest men can’t survive on the Gotham force…I’m so glad Bruce talked Dick out of joining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a pity,” Pam said. “We could use good men out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara shook her head. “In my entire life, I’ve known less than a dozen good men,” she said. “So it looks like it’s time for a few good women to step up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam smiled a bit. “I’m sure we can find plenty in public records,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a few private ones,” Barbara added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll check at the hospital,” Harley said. “Alysia may have been admitted and no one knew…or someone might know something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara nodded. “Okay…I’ll check with Wally as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley took her hand. “We will find her…and if Dent had anything to do with it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll put a dent in his skull,” Pam finished.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs was used to her father coming home at odd hours. He often looked sad and tired when he did, but the babysitter usually let Babs stay up until he got there so she could hug him good night.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tonight, Jim was earlier than usual. That wasn’t what caught her attention though.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had a boy with him, about her age, with dark hair and huge blue eyes and a ragged elephant clutched in his arms.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Babs,” Jim said. “This is Dicky. He just lost his parents so he’s going to stay with us tonight, if that’s okay with you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs looked at Dicky before she looked back at her father. “Lost them like we lost Mommy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dicky’s lip was trembling as Jim nodded. Babs nodded. “You can stay,” she said.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll go make up a bed,” Jim said.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs stood awkwardly as Jim had a word with the sitter and left the room. Dicky was starting to cry so Babs stepped closer. “Do you want a hug?” she asked. “When Daddy’s sad, he wants a big hug.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dicky nodded and Babs wrapped her arms around him. He was smaller than her and curled into the embrace, crying on her shoulder. Babs rubbed his back like her daddy always did when she cried.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay, Dicky,” she said. “They’re watching over you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t want them watching over me,” Dicky sobbed. “I want them next to me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs hugged him tighter as Jim came into the room.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dicky, your room is ready if you want to sleep,” he said.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dicky nodded and shuffled off down the hall. Babs followed beside Jim.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is Dicky going to stay forever?” she whispered.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Jim said. “Tomorrow, a social worker is going to come get him and take him to a foster home until they find a place for him to stay forever.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs nodded. She waited until Dicky was settled and Jim had taken her to her own room until she hugged her father tight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t ever go,” she begged.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim kissed her cheek. “I won’t,” he assured her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Promise?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Promise.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally was less than impressed when Barbara met him the next evening, at a nice quiet bar they frequented. It was a bit odd to see him without Dick as a buffer, but this was too urgent for Barbara to dwell on it too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to know if she was admitted,” Barbara insisted. “You don’t have to tell me anything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babs, you know I don’t have access to the full patient roster,” Wally said. “Unless she showed up pregnant, I really couldn’t say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sighed. “I’m just…so worried,” she said. “I don’t have proof of anything, and I don’t even know how to get close enough to Dent to find any.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean…he’s the district attorney,” Wally said. “Surely Bruce knows him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce knows everyone,” Barbara agreed. “But he’s currently several thousand miles away…even if I did reach him, there isn’t a whole lot he could do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah,” Wally said. “But aren’t there always like…social events or something? Dent’s bound to be at one of those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate parties,” Barbara said. “I only go to the Wayne Gala because Dick never lets me get out of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, he makes me go now too,” Wally said. “But maybe keep an eye on your mail…see if there’s something you can get into and…talk to him, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would I even say?” Barbara asked. “I can’t just straight-up accuse him of something…I’d have to get close enough to find any sort of evidence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Wally said. “But you should be representing Bruce anyway…maybe if you’re in society enough you can start…building a rapport or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sighed. “Fine,” she said. “But you’re coming too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally blinked. “What? But…I’m not rich or famous!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Barbara snapped. “I’m not attending those parties alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, Barbara didn’t have to look too hard for an in. She went into the office on Monday, feeling exhausted but determined, and glanced at Maggie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mail today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing exciting,” Maggie said. “Most of it’s for Bruce or whoever’s playing Bruce these days.” She leaned over and picked up a stack of envelopes. “Let’s see…proposal…proposal…sales pitch…offer…begging for money, begging for money…invite to the GDPD Benefit dinner…proposal…proposal…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara reached over and took the invitation. She tore it open and skimmed it. “Do not disturb me for the next half-hour,” she said. “And find me a designer who can do a rush job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Ms. Gordon.” Maggie turned back to her computer and Barbara went into her office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sat down at her desk, staring at the invitation. It was almost too perfect. Everyone knew that Bruce was gone for the next year; why would the benefit invitation come if they didn’t expect him to attend?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she had to take the chance. Barbara picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Barbara said. “We at Wayne Enterprises received the invitation to the Police Benefit, and I wanted to let you know that Barbara Gordon and Wallace West will be attending to represent Mr. Wayne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ms. Gordon. We look forward to having you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara ended the call and picked up the phone again immediately. “Wally?” she said as soon as it picked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make it fast, Babs, I’m on shift in five minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clear your schedule for Saturday night and get your suit pressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Police department benefit dinner. Dent’s bound to be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could hear Wally sighing. “Babs…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Free food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Wally said. “But it had better be pretty damn expensive free food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me,” Barbara said. “It probably will be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara tried to keep her mask up as she entered the benefit on Saturday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he looked that way in every public photo he had been in with Dick, so Barbara wasn’t worried about him giving away the game. But she had been a ward of Bruce Wayne’s for fifteen years, the deputy head of his companies for the last five, and she would be damned if anyone saw her crack outside the safety of the manor or Harley’s kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept her eyes open as she and Wally entered the room. She knew a few people scattered throughout the room, the same wealthy donors who frequented the Wayne Galas. She hoped one of them would notice her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Oswald Copplepot spotted her and waved, bouncing over with the same strange energy he always carried. “Barbara!” he said jovially when he reached her. “So nice to see you again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you, Os,” she said. “Have you met my friend, Wallace West? Wally, Oswald Copplepot, he runs the Iceberg Lounge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleasure, Mr. West,” Oswald said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you, Mr. Copplepot,” Wally said, shaking his hand and begging Barbara for help with his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw in the papers you are seeing young Grayson?” Oswald said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Wally said. “I miss him a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Oswald looked back at Barbara. “I heard about Damian…I do hope he does well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all do,” Barbara said. “Though it is a bit quiet around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad you’re here to represent Bruce,” Oswald said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara smiled and took Wally’s arm, hauling him along with her as Oswald led her around to mingle. She did her best to keep up, laugh at a few jokes, talk to people, keeping her eye out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she spotted him. Barbara squeezed Wally’s arm as Oswald led them over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harvey!” Oswald said. “So good to see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you, Os,” Dent said, smiling with the half of his face that still moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you met Barbara Gordon-Wayne?” Oswald asked. “She’s here in place of Bruce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a long time, Babs,” Dent said, extending his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara took it, brow furrowed. “Forgive me, I don’t recall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was several years ago,” Dent said. “That time when Dicky was kidnapped by that Satari?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” Barbara said. “Forgive me...it was a stressful night. I don’t recall much of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite understandable.” He examined her closely. “Hmm…yes, those are his eyes…his brow…but you have your mother’s nose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara forced a smile. “Lucky me,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent laughed a bit. “And there’s her smile,” he said. “You have grown to be quite the beauty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, the host called for everyone to find their seats and Barbara was able to move away. She found herself seated between Wally and Oswald, well away from Dent, though she kept an eye on him as the dinner and presentations started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an exceedingly dull evening—Wally’s eyes were glazing over the second dessert finished and Barbara found her mind wandering more and more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She supposed it was natural that Dent would have known her parents, but it was still a shock to realize there were people besides Bruce who remembered them. She barely remembered her mother herself, and now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced back at Dent, this time not even thinking of Alysia. Whether he was involved in the disappearance or not, Barbara realized he had something almost as valuable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t known her parents as well as she wanted. But Dent…he had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had to be something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evening finally wore down, and Barbara was definitely starting to sag. Nevertheless, she forced a smile as Wally forced himself to stay awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should come back to the Lounge,” Oswald was saying. “We have a live performance Friday…you should come. Drinks on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, not just on you.” Dent had materialized behind them. He gave Barbara another twisted half-smile. “If you don’t mind an old man joining you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara returned the smile, a bit tight. “I would be glad to meet you there, Mr. Dent,” she said. “If nothing else, it would be nice to…to have someone to talk to…who knew him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gladly,” he said. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “Until then, Miss Gordon.” He nodded to Wally and headed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be coming, Mr. West?” Oswald asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Possibly,” Wally said. “If I’m not on shift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oswald smiled. “I hope you can make it,” he said. “Good night, Barbara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night, Os,” Barbara said, and Wally escorted her out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had the decency to wait until they were back in the car before he turned to Barbara with an incredulous look. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just made a date with the prime suspect in a kidnapping case!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a better way to get information?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not letting you go alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take care of myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would I ever face Dick again if you got hurt on my watch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick knows I don’t need a babysitter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally huffed. “Fine,” he said. “But keep your phone on and check in every hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara rolled her eyes. “Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally stuck his tongue out at her.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The week passed in a blur. Before Barbara knew what was happening, it was Friday night and she was walking into the Iceberg Lounge, purse in hand, hoping she wasn’t making a horrible mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oswald greeted her at the door. “So glad you made it!” he said jovially. “I’ve set aside the best table for you and Harvey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Os,” Barbara said. “Is he here yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waiting for you.” Oswald took her over to a table in a corner, private enough that they could talk but still close enough to the stage that they could see the show easily. Dent was waiting as promised. He smiled and stood as they approached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Os,” Dent said, pulling out Barbara’s chair for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I get you?” Oswald asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whiskey for me,” Dent said. “Open a tab for myself and Miss Gordon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vodka soda,” Barbara said and Oswald hurried off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat silent for a moment until drinks arrived. Now that she was here, Barbara wasn’t even sure what to say. She couldn’t confront Dent about Alysia without more evidence, and she didn’t want to jump straight into asking questions about her parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they had drinks in hand, though, Dent laughed a bit. “I’m afraid I’m a bit unprepared,” he said. “I don’t often take lovely young ladies out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No missus?” Barbara asked, a bit surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m afraid not,” Dent said. “It is…difficult, all things considered.” He gestured at the burns. “But you…no young man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Barbara said. “Not right now, anyway…my brothers usually scare them all off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, your brothers aren’t here,” Dent said. “And I’m not easily frightened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear it,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how is Bruce?” Dent asked. “It’s been a while since we last spoke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce is…fine, last I heard.” Barbara shrugged a bit. “Communications to Sataria are thin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I imagine,” Dent said. “I’ve had a few dealings there, and they are difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Business?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naturally…I think it’s a market that can’t go untapped much longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what Dick and Steph are working on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, while you hold down the fort. A noble endeavor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lonely endeavor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Especially for one so young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it get easier with age?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…but it does become more predictable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara half-smiled. “I will bow to your wisdom, Mr. Dent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled back and offered his hand. “Dance with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took it. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent was more graceful than Barbara expected, more refined. She was in his arms, his eyes entrancing her in spite of the scars over one. She felt her breath catch and had to remind herself she was on a mission. She wasn’t here to romance him—she was here to interrogate him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me if this is presumptuous,” Dent said. “But if you remain lonely, I would be happy to have you at my home sometime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is rather presumptuous,” Barbara said. “Considering this is only our second meeting in fifteen years. But perhaps, at a later date…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps dinner first?” Dent offered. “Something a little more…refined than this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That…might be nice,” Barbara admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fell silent again until the dance ended and they returned to the table. The conversation turned back to business, an exchange about Wayne Enterprises’ next project and the goings-on in the city council. Dent was charming, attentive, and Barbara was starting to think she may have been too quick to judge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two more drinks in and Dent looked down. “I have missed this,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed what?” Barbara asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t come here often,” he confessed. “But when I was your age…I was still an officer on the force. Your parents and I would come here to unwind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blushed a little, remembering just how young she was compared to Dent. “I don’t remember them going out much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, when you came along, they had less time…then your mother passed and Jim didn’t go out at all…wanted to be a good example for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked back the sudden tears. “He was the best,” she said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was a good man,” Dent said. “Believed in his morals to the end. And he loved you, Barbara, more than anything. I knew that from the start.” He looked down, half-smiling. “I remember when he came back to work after you were born. He showed everyone the pictures…and he said, ‘Look at my little girl. Isn’t she the prettiest baby you’ve ever seen?’ And as you grew up…he was so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara was really crying now. “Thank you,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent reached out and took her hand. “I know he would still be proud of you,” he said. “He would be so happy to see what you’ve become…a beautiful, intelligent and successful woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That means…so much,” Barbara said. She swallowed. “Forgive me…I should get home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me call you a cab,” Dent said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Babs!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs skipped into the room, braids coming unraveled. “Yes, Daddy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mr. Wayne has asked if you want to attend the ball tomorrow night.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The one for Princess Talia?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s right.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Barbara chewed her lip. “Is Dicky going?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s why Mr. Wayne asked. He thinks it would be more fun for you both to spend the evening together.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d love to go!” Babs said. “Is Princess Talia pretty, Daddy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Princess Talia is a very polite lady,” Jim said. “And I hear she is a very intelligent one as well. As to pretty, I can’t be sure since I haven’t met her in person yet.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs nodded. “I bet she is…all princesses are pretty.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim shook his head a bit. “Let’s find you something to wear,” he said. “It’s a very fancy grown-up party and we need to make sure you look appropriate.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara hummed a bit the next morning as she moved through the manor, glancing at the pictures on the walls, mostly the children as they grew up. She smiled a bit at the photo of her and Dicky at the ball, her in her little green and gold dress, her hair already falling out of the curls her father had struggled for hours to put in, Dick in his tiny tux with the bow tie she had tied on just before the picture was taken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no pictures of Talia on the walls—Bruce had taken them all down the day after she left, to be thrown in a box in the attic and forgotten. Damian looked at them sometimes, Barbara knew, but she didn’t. But she could remember Talia from that night, the very picture of a perfect princess, extending her hand to Bruce. Barbara had thought it was something out of a fairy tale until Dick knocked the chocolate fountain over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew better now. Perfect romance and fairy tales just didn’t happen. Sure, Bruce and Clark were happy, as were Dick and Wally, but there were issues for them all, and Barbara didn’t delude herself about it anymore. Perfect people just weren’t out there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But oh, it would be nice to imagine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wandered down to the ballroom and stood at the top of the steps. Twice, Bruce had looked up at these stairs and seen his future. Even in her nightgown, hair in a messy ponytail, glasses sliding down her nose, Barbara wondered about it. If anyone would ever look up at her as she walked through the doors and see everything laid out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, why not? She smiled to herself, straightening up and walking down the steps like she was a princess. She raised her hand and curtsied to an imaginary partner, taking an invisible hand and going into a waltz on her own. She closed her eyes and imagined…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the form that came to mind was Dent’s, imagining the broad hands that had danced with her last night. Older, but charming, scarred but so attentive…maybe…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe romance didn’t have to start in the ballroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley was not impressed when Barbara was next at her house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think he’s all right?” she repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was sweet,” Barbara said. “In a way guys my age aren’t…and he doesn’t come off like a serial killer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one comes off like a serial killer,” Pam pointed out. “That’s what makes them dangerous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously,” Harley said. “Jay was the sweetest guy in the world before we were married. I never thought he would turn out to be a monster, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara sighed. “But I’m not…it’s only been one date. I can’t just say he’s a monster because he was nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nor can you say he isn’t,” Pam said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying I shouldn’t see him again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Harley said. “You’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions. But we don’t want you getting in too deep. If you want to keep seeing him, either for a romance or to find out more about Alysia, we won’t stop you. We’re just asking you to be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara nodded. “I know…Wally won’t stop texting me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Harley and Pam said together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re all alone in that big house,” Harley added. “I know you’ve always had Bruce and your brothers and sisters and Diana to scare off threats, but right now, you have to rely on your own smarts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said. “I’m ready to stand on my own. So please…trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent picked her up the next night. Barbara knew she should be more careful, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know where she lived already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner was at one of the more upscale restaurants in the city, one that Barbara was very familiar with. It was comforting, to be in a place where people knew her and would keep an eye out for her, but she wasn’t afraid. Dent was as charming as ever, even if his opening monologue about the upcoming city elections was of no particular interest to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still a pleasant evening, and if Barbara wasn’t interested in the elections, it wasn’t like Dent was invested in the outcome of the Satari ke’la manji when Barbara expressed worry about a message Dick had gotten through to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure they will be fine,” Dent said. “If nothing else, a diplomatic incident is the last thing the King would want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said. “But Damian is so young…having him out in the world on his own…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are also young,” Dent said. “Forgive an old man for saying so, but when you reach my age, the difference between seventeen and twenty-seven looks less and less distant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The difference is that I am grown,” Barbara said, a slight edge to her voice. “Damian may not be a child anymore, but he is not a man yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce will care for him,” Dent said, his voice soft. “And his mother will be there as well. I remember how much she loved him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara’s brow creased. “I…I never really understood why she left us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really couldn’t say,” Dent said. “My guess would be that some dreams were more important to her than others. But I didn’t know her very well…and of course Bruce refused to talk about it after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t realize you were close to Bruce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent shrugged. “Not particularly, but we meet now and then…he’s always very generous with his donations. And of course, we do drink a toast to your father now and then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara swallowed. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How we can think we’re close to people but not really know them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Dent agreed. “But no one can ever know everything about a person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not,” Barbara said. “But…all of my memories of my father are from a child’s mind. I wish I could have known him as an adult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew he was a good man,” Dent said. “Isn’t that enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was still thinking about it a month later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t seen Dent again, but not for lack of trying. They had spoken on the phone a few times, trying to arrange another time to meet, but the election meant that he was extremely busy with campaign events, and then one of the drones in R&amp;D had messed up an experiment that set production for Wayne Enterprises back and kept Barbara in her office later and later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But finally, things had calmed down enough that Barbara was able to leave the office at a decent hour. She pulled out her phone, her finger hovering over Dent’s name for a moment before she scrolled past and called Wally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it an emergency?” Wally asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Barbara said. “Just got out of work on time for once…I…I was about to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in her tone must have betrayed her real intention. “Not to the manor?” Wally asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said. “My…my first home. I still technically own the house, even if Bruce pays the taxes on it. It just…it’s time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you want me to come with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If…if you could,” Barbara said. “I’d ask Harvey to go, but I’m sure he’s busy…and…and I need someone who didn’t know him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll meet you there,” Wally said. “Text me the address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Barbara hung up and quickly typed out the address before she got in the car and drove down streets she still remembered in spite of everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house looked much as she remembered. A bit old, and the paint was starting to peel. Barbara knew that Bruce had people come in now and then to do some basic maintenance, but since she had made it very clear that she didn’t intend to live there again, it had fallen by the wayside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still had the key on her ring. It had been there since she was eleven years old, transferred from one keychain to the next like a ritual. Several times, she had considered putting it away in a drawer, but she could never bring herself to let go of it. She walked up the path, through the overgrown yard—she would have to call the landscaper to come mow it soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped at the door, the key in hand. Fifteen years. Fifteen years since she had actually gone inside. Bruce had offered, but she refused—when she was twelve, when she was eighteen, every time in between.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she had to now. Slowly, she put the key in the lock and pushed. The lock took a moment, rusted from disuse, but then it opened. She took another breath and opened the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything was as she had left it all those years ago. Nothing had been moved, dust settled over it all—the housekeepers hadn’t been through yet this year. Barbara walked through the house, looking over the various items, the knickknacks here and there, the books on the shelves that she had read voraciously as a child, the dishes still stacked in the cupboards, her father’s chair, her little window seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her hand over the cushion, her fingers coming away coated in dust. The window was dirty, the light of the setting sun barely coming through. She sat down anyway, curling up like she always had, muscle memory taking over to arrange her how she always sat back then.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you comfortable, sweetheart?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, Daddy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Would you like a cup of cocoa?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, please.” Babs sniffled a bit. Jim kissed her forehead and got up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs tried to read her book, curled in her blankets, but she couldn’t focus. Jim returned a minute later, helping her sit up and sip at the little cup. Once it was empty, Jim set it aside and gathered Babs up in his arms, rocking her gently until she fell asleep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara jerked away at the pounding on the door. She stood, not caring how dusty she was as she went to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally was on the doorstep, holding a shopping bag. “Hey,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Barbara said. She led him inside. “Sorry I don’t have anything to offer you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Wally said. “Why are we here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…I realized that…that there was so much of my father I lost. And…and if I want to find any of it, it will be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally nodded. “Well…let’s see what there is.” He sneezed. “Actually, scratch that. First we’re going to clean it out so we can actually see things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sighed. “That will take a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing I’m prepared.” He held up the bag. “I don’t know how often Bruce sends cleaners, but I knew that there would be a lot of crap in a house this old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara smiled a bit. “Guess I should write this suit off as a loss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grabbed some of my cleaning clothes,” Wally said. “We’re not too different in size...accounting for my height and your chest, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swatted at him. “All right, all right.” She took the bundle of clothing Wally pulled out of the bag and headed upstairs, to her old room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The carpet had been blue once, she knew, but now it was faded to grey. The bed was made, the sunny yellow bedspread dusty and dark. Her desk was still there, cleared of the books that Bruce had gotten back for her. Most of her personal possessions were gone, taken back to the manor, but there were a few things she had left behind. Porcelain dolls that her mother had gifted her, toys she had outgrown by the time Jim died, books she had finished with long ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara shook her head and changed her clothes quickly, folding her business suit up to be washed later. She dug a hair tie out of her pocket and pulled her hair up before heading back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally tossed her a dust rag and a bottle of cleaner. “You start up, I’ll start down,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “And if you find anything interesting, tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara went back up and got to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was fairly easy for the first hour, dusting the upstairs, cleaning out everything she could see. Hard, dirty work, but at the end, Barbara did feel better, seeing her home come back to life. If she closed her eyes, she could even hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In South Australia, I was born!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heave away, haulaway!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>South Australia is my home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re bound for South Australia!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara found herself smiling as she took up the song that he had always sang on their cleaning days, her voice echoing throughout the empty house.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Haul away, you roving kings!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heave away, haul away!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Haul away, you’ll hear me sing</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re bound for South Australia!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>From below, she heard Wally start to take up the song with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As I went out one morning fair,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heave away, haul away!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Twas there I met Miss Nancy Blair</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re bound for South Australia!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned, moving through the rooms, everything starting to shine, the pictures on the wall clearing. She could see her father, her mother, herself as a child, all happy. She smiled back at them, tears in her eyes. “Hi, Dad,” she whispered. “I’m home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Haul away, you roving kings!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heave away, haul away!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Haul away, you’ll hear me sing</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re bound for...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped. It was the end of the hallway, the door to her father’s study. The room that she wasn’t supposed to enter as a child, because that was where her father worked. That was where he kept his important case files, all the things she wasn’t meant to see. Sure, she’d been in there once or twice, but never without his permission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Barbara?” Wally was coming up the stairs, looking concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed. “I…I can’t,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at the door. “What’s in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s his study,” she said. “It was his space…no little girls allowed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babs. You’re twenty-seven years old. This is your house. Whatever he had in there…it’s yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed and nodded. “It just…feels wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here.” Wally moved in front of her and very carefully opened the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara swallowed again and stepped inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was as she remembered from the distant snatches she had once caught. Her father’s large desk facing away from the window, though the papers had been cleared off it. His filing cabinets all around the room under the bookshelves, the small sofa on one side. It was much like Bruce’s office, come to think on it, though smaller and not quite as expensive. Barbara moved through the room, sending up small puffs of dust from the carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Very carefully, she sat down on the chair behind the desk. Looked over the room as Jim would have. Saw everything that he would have worked over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally waited by the door. “Should we…look through it all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever’s unlocked,” Barbara said. “He was very careful about his files.” She started opening the desk, seeing what was here for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Office supplies. A few small objects. Pictures of Barbara and her mother. Papers detailing cases that went cold or were solved years ago, none of them important. Wally went to the filing cabinets and started opening them, looking through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did a lot of cases,” Wally observed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So many,” Barbara said. “There was hardly a time he wasn’t working on something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The police didn’t come get it all when he died?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess…they figured he would have left everything important with them,” Barbara said. “I don’t know, I was eleven…I suppose if we find anything, we can turn it in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally nodded, still pawing through the files. “He was at least organized,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were quiet for a moment until Wally got to the last cabinet. “Damn,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Locked?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…don’t suppose you’d know where the keys are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara shook her head. “He usually carried them with him.” She paused. “The mortician returned everything he had on him to Bruce…so if the keys were in his pocket, they’d be at the manor now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might want to find them,” Wally said. “If I understand his system, this would have whatever he was working on at the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked. “So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick told me they never found his killer…maybe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara was dizzy. Her mouth had gone dry and her breathing sped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifteen years. The file had been closed on it years ago, Jim Gordon’s death written off as another random act of violence, one of hundreds that plagued Gotham every day. She had given up any hope of knowing how or why as a child, had done her best not to think of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now…now, she could at least try. Now, she knew where to look for clues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally was at her side in a second as the tears started again. “Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Barbara said. “You’re right…it’s just…I never even thought about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you didn’t,” Wally said. “You were a child…and Bruce was too busy trying to take care of all of you to even think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It should have been the police,” she said. “They could have asked for the keys…if there’s anything to be found in there, they should have been the ones to look back then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Wally said. “It’s…weird. The police usually move heaven and earth when one of their own is killed, but there’s a locked cabinet they didn’t even touch? Something about your father’s murder is wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all wrong,” Barbara said. “The whole thing was wrong!” She stood up suddenly, angry tears coursing down her cheeks. “Does it matter who killed him? Or why? He’s dead, and no matter what is in that cabinet, he’s not coming back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally backed away. “I know…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…we should probably go,” he finished. “We can come back another day and finish up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara wanted to object, wanted to cry and scream and throw a tantrum. She wanted to throw things across the room and yell until her father came back and hugged her, until Jim told her it was all right and she was awake now, he was there, she was safe…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead she nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Later…much later.” She closed the drawer and let Wally take her back downstairs, forced herself to lock up and drive back to the manor.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next day, Barbara was awoken by someone ringing the doorbell. She grumbled and pulled on her robe before she stumbled down the stairs, wondering who would be calling this early on a Saturday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her shock, it was Harvey Dent, standing on her doorstep with a bouquet in hand. He raised an eyebrow at Barbara. “Good morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara went red and pulled her robe tighter. “Harvey,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said. “But it’s been so long since we both had a free day, and I thought that it might be nice to surprise you…forgive me if I’m intruding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s…fine,” Barbara said. “Come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She led him into the kitchen, where he handed her the flowers. She examined them, trying to keep her expression neutral. The assortment was brightly colored, and Barbara didn’t even know the names of several of the flowers, let alone their meanings. Nevertheless, she found a vase and set them on the table before she started making coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent glanced around the kitchen before he leaned on the counter. “I’m sorry, I really should have called ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really fine,” Barbara said. “Did you make plans, or are the flowers just an apology?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did have a few things in mind,” Dent said. “The Technology Museum has a new exhibit that I thought would interest you…and when we’re finished with that, I was thinking about lunch on the pier, and a look at the art fair? Dinner, of course, wherever you like, and after that…well, after that we can see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blushed deeper. “It sounds like a good day,” she admitted. “Semi-casual, then?” She glanced at his jeans and Henley sweater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, if you can stand to be seen in such a state.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara poured out the coffee and passed him a cup. “Give me ten minutes to get dressed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you need…we are in absolutely no hurry. And we can get breakfast on the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara nodded and hurried upstairs. She slipped into her room and hurriedly dressed in a casual sundress, brushing on a light bit of makeup and putting her hair in a high ponytail. She slipped on her glasses and checked herself. She looked pretty, but not overdressed for the day’s plans. She took a deep breath and hurried back downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent smiled at her as she picked up her coffee. “Lovely,” he said. They finished the coffee in silence and he offered his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara took it and followed him out to the waiting car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day was perfect, everything in the plan going off without a hitch. The museum was interesting, the pier lovely, the fair exhilarating, and by the time they were sitting down to dinner, Barbara was feeling more alive than she had in weeks. Dent had been attentive, sweet, and the ribbons now adorning Barbara’s hair attested to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything was so good that Barbara forgot everything else. The oppressive sorrow of the day before was gone, as was any thought of looking for Jim’s keys among Bruce’s things. She wouldn’t spoil the day by thinking of the locked cabinet or the dusty house or the mysteries hovering over it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were lingering over coffee when Dent reached across the table and took Barbara’s hand. “I hope you enjoyed the day,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” Barbara said honestly. “It was nice…just what I needed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” Dent said. He hesitated, looking almost shy for a moment. “I…wonder if you might like it to go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…don’t understand,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only mean, if you wish it, I would be happy to have you at my home tonight,” Dent said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara’s breath caught. She had expected it, of course, but it was still sudden. And it wasn’t that she was opposed to casual encounters, exactly, or even Dent himself at this point, but there was still a nagging doubt in her mind. “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all right if you don’t want,” Dent added hastily. “I wasn’t even thinking that…well, when you get to be my age, you long for company, even if it is more of the platonic sort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s…I made a promise,” Barbara lied, thinking quickly. “To my father…not to…not to give myself until marriage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Dent said. “I admire you, Barbara…most girls who make such vows don’t keep them as long as you have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s important to me,” Barbara said. “I’m sorry, if you were looking for…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Dent said. “I would still be glad to have you in my home…in separate rooms. To greet you in the morning, and say good-night to before bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps…for one night,” Barbara said. “We can…see how it goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent smiled. “I’ll be delighted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house was nowhere near as large as Wayne manor, but it was still fairly impressive. The décor was odd, halfway between a traditional setup and more modern pieces. Barbara wouldn’t have noticed, except it was all a bit too evenly split, as though Dent had changed his mind about what he wanted halfway through but was too cheap to return the pieces he already had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent took Barbara through the space carefully. Kitchen, looking hardly used as one would expect from a very busy single man. Living room, comfortable if gaudy. Parlor, more tasteful and no doubt used to entertain important people. Two bedrooms upstairs, one of them clearly unused. A study, similar to Jim’s, only covered in papers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And a door at the end of the upstairs hallway that Dent passed by without comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Barbara asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that,” Dent said. “Storage space. Nothing exciting…we all collect bits of our lives that have to go somewhere, don’t we? I keep it locked most of the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara nodded, though she did glance back at the door. Something about it seemed…strange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent took her to the unused bedroom. “There are various clothes in the dresser,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll find something that’s comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you just keep random articles of clothing around?” Barbara asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have rotating campaign staffs,” Dent explained. “Sometimes they’re in from out of state for one night and don’t have anything clean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent hovered in the doorway for a moment. “Well…good night,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night,” Barbara said, and Dent left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed the door and locked it at once. Not that she didn’t trust him, exactly, but she was still in a strange place. Something about it all unsettled her. What kind of man invited a woman over to sleep a room away from him? Had Alysia been in this very room, in this bed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara moved around the room quickly, searching for any clues. Nothing immediately caught her attention, no hidden doors or catches. The closet was full of spare suits, no doubt for when Dent needed something fancier than his everyday wear. The drawers indeed contained a number of different garments, mostly casual t-shirts and sweatpants, holding with Dent’s excuse about campaign staff. The bed seemed normal, if oddly made, and there was nothing suspicious in the side table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara finally pulled out a set of sleep clothes and changed before slipping into the bed. It was comfortable enough, and in spite her uneasiness, the long day finally caught up with her and she went to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs wandered down the hall. The light was on in her father’s study and she could hear one of his records playing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She stopped in front of it, hesitating, her stuffed cat clutched in her arms. She knew Jim hated to be disturbed, but she needed him, more than ever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She knocked on the door. There was no answer, just the scratch of the record player.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Daddy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still nothing. The music was distant, strange, repetitive, almost like the record player was broken.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Daddy!” Babs knocked on the door again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just as she was starting to panic, the door swung open. Jim was there, looking exhausted. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked, scooping Babs up in his arms.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She threw her arms around him at once, dropping her cat. “I had a bad dream,” she said. “I dreamed that you were gone and I couldn’t find you and I was scared!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s all right,” Jim said, stroking her hair. “I’m here…I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs nodded and buried her face in her neck, the record still skipping on repeat in the background.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara awoke late the next morning, feeling distinctly unsettled. There was a knocking at the door. “Barbara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sat up. “A moment!” she called. She quickly pulled on her clothes from the day before and went to unlock the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent was waiting on the other side, looking a bit concerned. “I could hear you muttering,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Barbara blushed. “I talk in my sleep…it’s nothing, really.” She blinked. “Was I that loud?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The walls are thin,” Dent said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara frowned a bit. “I…sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Dent said. “Would you like breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should get home,” Barbara said. “It’s…it’s been lovely, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast on the way, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara smiled a bit. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped at a small diner on the way back to the manor. Barbara was still feeling uneasy, but Dent soon had her laughing again, talking of his youthful misdeeds, many of which Jim had been a part of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…it took O’Hara hours to find his hat again,” Dent finished. “But even he had to laugh in the end. Jim just had that way about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did,” Barbara agreed. “I don’t remember many times when I was unhappy with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one could be unhappy with Jim,” Dent said. “He could take himself seriously…sometimes too much…but he knew when to relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was perfect,” Barbara said. “The best father I could have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he raised you well,” Dent said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the morning was wearing late and Dent took Barbara back to the manor. She didn’t exactly invite him in, but didn’t discourage him from following her back inside to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation broke off when they reached it to find Pam sitting at the table, looking rather worried, though that melted into cold anger when they appeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Barbara asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wally called me,” Pam said. “He was worried about you, and Bruce left me a key.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you just walked in without permission?” Barbara snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t answer your phone all day!” Pam said, standing up. “We were about an hour away from calling the police!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent shifted. “I should leave,” he said. “I had a wonderful time, Barbara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So did I,” Barbara said, maybe a bit more emphatically than necessary. “We should do it again next week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” Dent said. “Call me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. And thank you for the flowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent nodded and kissed Barbara’s cheek before he hastily fled the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam glared after him. “Barbara Elizabeth Gordon, you have a lot of explaining to do!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, my mother?” Barbara asked. “Harvey took me out yesterday and I spent the night at his house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You spent the night with him?!” Pam said. “Barbara, you know what happened to Alysia…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we don’t,” Barbara said. “There’s no evidence to say Harvey was involved! There was nothing weird there except his taste in décor!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got into this because you thought he was involved!” Pam said. “And now you’re falling into bed with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara went red. “Nothing happened,” she said. “We were in separate rooms…and even if I did, so what? I’m not a princess in an ivory tower, Pam! I’m a grown-ass woman and I can make my own decisions!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did he show up yesterday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, about seven? He woke me because he wanted to surprise me with a nice day out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he brought you that bouquet?” Pam gestured at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, what about it? It’s normal for men to bring their girlfriends flowers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even know what these are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Barbara was confused. “They’re…flowers. They look nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam stared and then started pointing. “Birdsfoot trefoil, revenge. Belvedere, declaration of war. Pink camellias, longing. Datura, deceitful charms. Orange blossoms, eternal love. And red rosebuds, pure and lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by it,” she said. “He probably doesn’t know flower language like you do…just picked out things he thought were pretty or I would like. I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s half-blind anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and he just happened to write you the floral equivalent of a stalker serial killer note?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re overthinking it!” Barbara said. “You’re looking for reasons to dislike him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to keep you alive!” Pam snapped back. “I know you don’t have a lot of experience with relationships and you don’t see things right away!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have plenty of experience!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Pam raised her eyebrows. “Name one man you’ve gone on more than a few casual dates with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara opened her mouth then paused. “I…I’m busy with work,” she mumbled. “And it’s really hard to have a serious relationship when you have four brothers, three sisters, two dads, all of their significant others, and Alfred breathing down your neck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Pam’s voice was gentler. “You’ve never had anything that was more than a fling before. You’ve spent most of your life working for Bruce, and whatever men you’ve dated are scared off by your family. And I know that makes it difficult for you to recognize real danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t…” Barbara struggled. “Look…I know he seems odd, but…so far, he’s been good to me. He’s nice…he doesn’t push. Even last night, I said no to sex and he listened. I don’t think he wants to hurt me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They all seem that way,” Pam sighed. “But fine…I know you’re an adult, and if you think he’s good for you, I won’t interfere again. Just…don’t go radio silent on us, okay? We’re all on edge already and we don’t want you to get hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She didn’t hear any more about it until a month later. In that time, she and Dent went on several more dates, most of them fast, casual affairs, with the occasional weekend spent in his home. In spite of Pam’s warnings and her own lingering doubts, Barbara was happy. Dent was a consummate gentleman, attentive but not pushy, intelligent but not condescending, perhaps a bit dull at times, but he made up for it with further stories of Jim. Barbara couldn’t say she was in love with him, exactly, but she was growing very fond of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had yet to share a bed or venture into any form of intimacy besides chaste kisses on the cheek. Barbara was secretly glad of it--as much as she enjoyed seeing Dent, she wasn’t sure that she wanted a real romance with him at this point. She didn’t know if it was the burn, or his age, or just her own uneasiness about the situation, but her affection for him felt more like the affection she felt for Bruce and Clark, that for a close friend or father rather than a lover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did wonder if it bothered him, that he was so obviously attracted to her but she kept putting him off. She waited until they had been together for two months, one evening when they were sitting in his parlor eating takeout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it...bother you that I keep a separate room?” she asked, hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent laughed a bit. “Your chastity only does you credit,” he said. “I am...attracted to you, Barbara. You are a beautiful woman...intelligent, refined...everything a man could ask for. But I am willing to wait until you are ready for anything more. And given your promise to Jim, I might even buy you a ring, after a more decorous period of time has passed...with Bruce’s blessing, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara smiled a bit. “I’m not that old-fashioned,” she said. “And wouldn’t it be strange for you to ask blessing from a man younger than you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it strange that your stepfather is barely four years older than you?” Dent shot back. “Regardless of age, I will court you in the proper fashion...I owe that to your father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Barbara hesitated. “I’m not sure if…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a possibility,” Dent said. “Obviously, two months isn’t enough time for anyone to decide the rest of her life. But you would make a fine wife for anyone lucky enough to win you over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Barbara said. She stood abruptly. “Forgive me...I find that I have developed a bit of a headache.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Dent stood and kissed her cheek. “Good night, Barbara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs walked down the empty hallway. It was darker, darker than the house ever was, but the light still shone around the office door. Something was following her, close by but never quite close enough.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The record was still playing, still skipping. She walked closer, but the door was moving as well, the skipping record ever louder, whatever was following her drawing close behind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Daddy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was no answer, no pause in the music. Babs broke into a run. If she was fast enough, she could catch the door, it would open, her father would appear and frighten away whatever was chasing her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Daddy!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She threw herself against the door. It was locked tight, the only noise from the other side that of the record player. Babs looked around. The key, where was the key?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was crying, frightened, screaming for Jim to come out, but she wasn’t making any noise, nothing that could be heard over the skipping music. Whatever was behind her was drawing nearer, reaching out to take her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“DADDY!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The door finally opened and Jim was there, but he was pale, his eyes sunken, bleeding holes in his chest. He looked down at Babs silently and slammed the door again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barbara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sat up with a gasp. She was shaking, tears streaking down her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door was open, Dent standing in the doorway. The light was dim, and Barbara scrambled for her glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were screaming.” Dent moved closer, though he kept his motions slow. “Are you all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just a nightmare,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat down on the end of the bed, not touching her. “Do you need anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Barbara said. “I’m fine.” She frowned slightly. “I locked the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent shifted a bit. “Forgive me...I have a master key that opens every lock in the house. I normally wouldn’t use it, but you sounded hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara swallowed. “I...I know,” she said. “But it’s…” She was blushing. “Forgive me for not wanting men bursting into my room late at night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Dent said. “It won’t happen again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you promise?” Barbara asked. “I...my sisters tell me I scream a lot. They’re usually the ones who come to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent held out a small key. “Here,” he said. “You can keep it...I have other keys to the locks. I’ll put away the one to your room, and I swear I will only break down the door if the house is on fire. All I ask is that you stay out of the storage room...I fear the dust would only make you ill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara reached out and took the key, tucking it into the drawer on the table. “Thank you,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are these nightmares frequent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But they’re usually not too terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you should see someone about them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara looked down. “I’m...hesitant about seeing sleep specialists,” she said. “I don’t know if you heard about Dick…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, that awful business with Dr. Crane.” Dent nodded. “I understand.” He seemed to hesitate a moment. “I could stay, if you want...not for anything...improper, just for comfort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara bit her lip, but then nodded. “Okay,” she said. She shifted over, allowing Dent to lay down beside her. After a moment, he slipped an arm around her waist. They weren’t nestled close, exactly--Barbara was under the blankets and he was above them--but it was still nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Barbara closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally did not look impressed two weeks later when Barbara met him for lunch in the hospital cafeteria.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re thinking about doing what?” he demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harvey asked if I want to move in with him,” Barbara repeated. “He’s worried about me being in the manor all alone for another five and a half months at least, and...and we’ve reached the point in our relationship where we can start thinking more long-term.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barbara,” Wally said. “You’ve been dating for two and a half months. Before he swept you off your feet, you were investigating whether or not he was a kidnapper. He’s way too old for you to begin with, and you’re planning to go live with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like that,” Barbara said. “We have separate rooms...he’s shared my bed a few times, but it’s all been innocent. He respects that I don’t want to have sex with him, and we’re grown adults...what’s it matter whether we’ve been dating two months or two years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just think you’re taking it awfully fast,” Wally said. “And innocent or not, you don’t find him being that close to you while you’re asleep creepy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce and Clark were together for less time before Clark moved in,” Barbara pointed out. “And I know you and Dick were sleeping together after two months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but Dick’s not old enough to be my father,” Wally said. “And didn’t Clark move in because Lex Luthor burned his farm down? That’s kind of a special circumstance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So is my entire family running off to Sataria to overthrow the government without me,” Barbara snapped. “And I didn’t come here to be lectured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came here to tell me this,” Wally said. “And I assumed you wanted my opinion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara looked down. “All right,” she admitted. “I am...hesitant. I mean...I have no real reason to distrust him, but...something about the whole thing feels weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust your instincts, Babs,” Wally said. “If they’re telling you something is off, it probably is. I’m sure Dent’s a great guy when you’re dating him, but...well, you’re the only one who really sees him. He’s never come around to anyone’s place for dinner, never really spent time with your friends, hasn’t met most of your family, and he only really knows Bruce as a business contact. You two have never appeared as a public couple, and I doubt you could name any contacts he has that you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked. “I...I guess I didn’t realize it,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Wally said. “Honeymoon phase and all. My point is, you should at least see if you get along with each other’s people before you elope or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Barbara said. “Well...I suppose it’s about time for dinner at the manor, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally blinked. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner party,” Barbara said. “You, Harley, Pam, whoever he thinks I should know on his side...see if what family we have on hand gets along, make sure we make a decent public couple. All those good things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally groaned. “I was hoping to avoid another boring dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad,” Barbara said. “I have a point to prove.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent was, if anything, even less enthusiastic about the dinner than Wally was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just one dinner,” Barbara said. “We’ve been together for months and you’ve only met my friends in passing...and I don’t think I’ve met yours at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know most of my friends,” Dent said. “We tend to operate in the same circles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a social life outside the business,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A social life that runs a bit young for me,” Dent agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot of people say I’m a bit young for you,” Barbara pointed out. “What do we care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s different,” Dent said. “You don’t...act like most people your age. You’ve grown up much more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harley and Pam are in their thirties and have a kid,” Barbara said. “And I’m not asking you to be best friends with them. I just...I’d like you to know what you’re getting into with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right,” Dent said. “But fair’s fair. Will you accompany me the next week? I’m holding a dinner for my donors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara smiled. “I’d be honored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pay attention, Babs.” Jim moved around the kitchen with a sort of harried confidence that always made Babs giggle. “You never know when you’ll have to host someone important and need to impress them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We don’t need to impress Bruce,” she said. “He already knows we live like this.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“True, but Princess Talia doesn’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why do people care so much what Princess Talia thinks?” Babs demanded. “She laughed at Dicky and made him cry.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And she apologized for it.” Jim gave Babs a severe look. “And you’re going to be polite to her.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know.” Babs rolled her eyes. “But why we do we have to impress her?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because she’s a guest and we want her to feel welcome.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs shifted a bit. “Dicky said that Bruce made relik for her. Are we making relik?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t even know what that is,” Jim admitted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s something they eat in Sataria.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then it was very nice for Bruce to make her feel at home. But no, we’re not making it. Come on, can you get potatoes boiling for me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The steak was just starting when the bell rang. Barbara cursed and hurried to answer; she wasn’t expecting anyone for another hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally was standing there, bags in hand. “Thought you might need some help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weirdly enough, I am capable of planning dinner for five on my own.” Nevertheless, Barbara let him inside and in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you are,” Wally said. “But I also know you’re trying to plan an evening that will at least lull Dent into enough security not to question Pam’s video recorder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Babs, if you don’t think she’ll be hunting evidence tonight, you’re deluded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an introductory dinner, not an interrogation!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same thing...he’s getting off easy, I had to deal with your entire family at mine”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sighed. “Fine...what did you bring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Side dishes, mostly, and dessert...the hospital bake sale was last week and I bought...more than I needed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean we’ve found a limit to Wally West’s appetite?” Barbara laughed. “Say it ain’t so!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wally looked sad. “I forgot Dick was gone for a moment,” he mumbled. “And Doctor Thompkins made that peanut butter pie he loves so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara hugged him. “I’m sure he’s fine,” she said. “I haven’t heard anything to the contrary, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but I miss him,” Wally said. “I mean...peanut butter pie doesn’t sound as appealing alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing sounds appealing alone,” Barbara said. “But we’re not alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent arrived not long after, more flowers in hand. He didn’t ring the bell, just walked into the kitchen--it had rather become a habit over the last few weeks. Barbara didn’t mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she said, going over and kissing his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, my dear...Mr. West.” Dent gave Wally a perfunctory nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Wally,” Wally mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara set the flowers at the center of the table. “You boys go have brandy in the parlor or whatever it is you do,” she said. “I’m almost done in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?” Wally asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very.” Barbara didn’t exactly chivvy them out of the kitchen, but her smile was very forceful. She ensured that they were settled before she returned to the kitchen to finish everything off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rang again just as she finished setting things out. Barbara hurried to answer and found Harley and Pam on the other side, Harley holding a rather expensive bottle of wine, and Pam holding a vase of flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara raised her eyebrows. “We’re going to have a lot of centerpieces,” she observed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Pam said. “We won’t have to beat around the bush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara led them inside and Pam’s eyes flickered to the flowers Dent had brought. She nodded slightly. “Thought so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pam…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barbara, he’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pam,” Barbara repeated. “Play nice. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am playing nice,” Pam hissed. “I’m giving him full warning. And he seems to be doing the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why they coordinate so well?” Barbara asked. “Because you’re essentially declaring war on each other from the start?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My message is very clear,” Pam said. “As is his.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pammy, please,” Harley said quietly. “This is for Babs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam only raised her eyebrows. “Need help, Barbara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m finished.” Barbara set the last of the dishes on the table. “Please, sit while I get the boys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley and Pam sat down on the left side of the table. Barbara went into the parlor, where Wally and Dent seemed to be having a very awkward conversation about hospital funding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner’s ready,” Barbara said. “And Harley and Pam are here, so we can begin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men stood up and followed Barbara back to the dining room. Harley gave a bright but brittle smile as they entered. Pam’s smile was not nearly so big.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Dent,” she said coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Isley...Doctor Quinzel.” Dent took the seat to Barbara’s right. “So nice to see you again.” He didn’t sound sincere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to finally meet you in this capacity,” Harley said, her voice a bit too bright. “Barbara’s been telling us so much about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent half-smiled at Barbara. “Nothing indiscrete I hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never,” Barbara said, her voice as falsely bright as Harley’s as she started passing dishes around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed, I’ve heard nothing but compliments,” Pam said. “After all, inattentive gentlemen don’t usually spend so much time on floral arrangements.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent glanced at the vases. “Oh, not so much time,” Dent said. “After all, Ms. Lance is very capable of putting together just the right combinations for any occasion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed she is,” Pam said. “And I’m so glad we both go to her, or else we might have clashed horribly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if she would ever let another war of the roses break out in Mr. Wayne’s house,” Dent said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara deemed it time to intervene. “Wally, what’s the news from the hospital? I understand the new wing is finally under construction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Wally said, looking up from where he’d been trying to sink into his chair. “Oh...yes, it’s going well. And the director will be extending his thanks to Bruce...again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a very generous donation,” Harley added, voice still bright. “Don’t be shocked if they name it after him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll hate that,” Barbara said. “Not that he’d ever admit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I can see where having his name connected to more death and misery would be a bit of a sore spot,” Dent said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True,” Wally said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some men make death and misery their business,” Pam said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am well aware,” Dent said. “It is something we all must handle in our own way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Preferably without causing more of it,” Pam said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara grit her teeth. “How’s Lucy?” she asked, rather more forcibly than necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley jumped a bit. “Lucy’s doing well,” she said. “Her kindergarten play is coming up. She’s very excited...she’s going to be Rapunzel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, she’ll be lovely,” Barbara said. “Just a flat adaptation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More of a collection,” Harley said. “Just little short versions...heavily bowlderized, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I don’t think the actual Grimm stories are appropriate for that age,” Barbara agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t know,” Dent said. “I think that a good dose of terror at an early age helps with real world problems later on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think four and five-year-olds need to be exposed to all the horrors of the world at once,” Pam said. “Or do you think Bluebeard is a good bedtime story?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t recall that it did me any harm as a child,” Dent said. “Though I suppose those of a more delicate constitution would be upset by it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Controlling the amount of terror is essential to not traumatizing them,” Pam said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara closed her eyes and poured another glass of wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evening broke up fairly quickly after dinner, for which Barbara was extremely grateful. No matter what topic came up, Pam seemed determined to pick a fight, and Dent had responded in kind. Barbara knew that Wally and Harley had tried, but she had seen Harley’s eyes go glassy and Wally sink into his chair more and more as the evening continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it probably didn’t help that she had definitely drunk too much wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara washed the dishes with more anger than was probably warranted, but she felt justified. She just wanted her friends and boyfriend to meet and be civil to one another, but it seemed like even that was too much to ask. She could understand Pam’s behavior, a little, but Dent should have known better. Should have realized that if he wanted to keep her around…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent came back into the kitchen. Barbara glanced at him with a slight glare. “Thought you had left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Left my wallet,” Dent said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara hummed and turned back to the dishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about tonight,” Dent said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have taken the high road,” Barbara snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was doing everything to wind me up,” Dent said. “And I didn’t notice anyone trying to stop her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pam’s like that,” Barbara said. “She...tends to pick fights with everyone. She’s not so prickly once you get to know her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She didn’t seem eager for me to do that,” Dent said. “And is that really the sort of person you consider a friend? Judgmental, temperamental, argumentative?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was my science tutor,” Barbara said. “She’s been here a long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t think she’s the best friend for you...and Doctor Quinzel left her husband for her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was abusing her,” Barbara snapped. “And Pam got her out of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It still doesn’t reflect well that she would abandon him while he’s in a coma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s she supposed to do, go sit at his bedside and hope he wakes up less of an asshole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She could conduct herself with more decorum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s doing what she can.” Barbara abandoned the sink and went to retrieve her wine glass and the bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barbara…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t, Harvey.” Barbara poured the glass and downed it quickly. “Harley’s doing what’s best for her and Lucy. You can’t judge her for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps not, though I still question her choice in replacements.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s a friend...a good friend.” Barbara poured another glass and downed that as well. “Anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m also concerned about that West fellow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wally? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s always hanging around, isn’t he? The first man in your life now that your step-fathers and brothers are gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara laughed. “He’s my brother’s boyfriend,” she said. “There’s nothing...it’s not like that at all. He’s just a friend...a very gay friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still not comfortable with him hanging around,” Dent said. “The cat’s away, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t...I wouldn’t do that to Dick!” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent raised his hands in surrender. “All right,” he said. “I trust you. Just...be careful, Barbara. I know they’re your friends, but they all strike me as...immature. Irresponsible. Poor influences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think Bruce would let them hang around if that was true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce Wayne is not known for his discretion,” Dent said. “Or for being particularly selective about his company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara knocked back the last of the wine bottle. “Get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barbara…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m angry and drunk and I want you to go before I say something I regret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent nodded. “Is next week’s dinner off then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I’ll think about it when I’m sober and you’ve apologized.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Dent grabbed his wallet and left the house. Barbara waited until the door closed before she broke down in tears, angry and frustrated and entirely too drunk to deal with this.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Daddy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim jumped and looked up from his desk. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Babs was starting to worry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why are you up?” He crossed the office and picked Babs up, even though at eleven she was really too big for that anymore. “Bad dream?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t sleep.” Babs hugged Jim. “I can hear you working.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim frowned. “I’ll close the door,” he promised.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why aren’t you sleeping?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m very busy,” Jim said. “This is a very big case.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What kind of case?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim hesitated a bit. “There are bad people taking girls from their families,” Jim said. “I’m trying to catch them, but I’m having a hard time finding evidence.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh.” Babs clung tighter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll never let anyone take you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara was awoken by the sound of her phone ringing. She groaned and picked up, assuming it was Dent. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Barbara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sat up. That wasn’t Dent’s voice. “Bruce?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I wake you? It’s almost noon there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a late night.” Barbara rubbed her temples. “Why are you running up an international call charge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed. “Things have gone a bit south here,” he said. “And I wanted to let you know that we might not make it back to Gotham.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Currently, Dick, Steph, Diana and I are locked in the palace and Jason’s been arrested. I have no idea where Damian or the journalists are and Tim won’t answer his phone...please tell me he didn’t lose it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim’s not here,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara bit her lip. “He and Cass followed you to Sataria,” she said. “They wanted to help, but they didn’t want you to worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce cursed under his breath. “Of course they did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Barbara could feel tears pricking at her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve failed you at everything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Barbara…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just...it’s been so hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence for a long moment. “Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara swallowed and started to tell him everything, from Alysia’s disappearance to her relationship with Dent to the awful dinner the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now we’re fighting and Pam is being unreasonable about it and I don’t know what to do!” she finished in a rush, feeling more like a child than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce was quiet for a very long time. Barbara did her best to stop crying long enough to really listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Bruce sighed. “That’s a lot,” he admitted. “And I wish I had an easy answer. But I’ve known Harvey for a long time and while he can be awkward, I have no reason to think he’s a criminal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said. “Neither do I, but Pam’s still determined to make a fight of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pam’s determined to make a fight of everything,” Bruce said. “The only reason I can deal with her on a regular basis is that I don’t let it get to me. But I do think that she and Wally have a point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying that he’s a serial killer, but he is smarter than he sometimes likes to appear. And while I think he’s a good man, he is quite a bit older than you and rather less sociable. I just want you to think very carefully about your decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Clark…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are not remotely comparable to this situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was very fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there’s a major difference between a six-year age gap and a twenty-year one. I’m not saying that his age alone should disqualify him, only that you should think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have thought about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And after last night...I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to know.” Bruce’s voice was gentle. “You just need to consider.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Barbara said. “By the way,” she added suddenly. “Do you know where my dad’s things from...that night went?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe the police took everything on the body for evidence,” Bruce said. “Why the sudden interest? I thought you’d put it behind you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had, but…” Barbara swallowed heavily. “I went back...just to see...and the cabinet with his final cases was locked and I couldn’t find the key.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce was quiet again. “That’s odd,” he finally said. “I would have thought his office would be cleared out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe they didn’t think it was important,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe the keys were taken off his body so they wouldn’t know what he was working on,” Bruce said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Barbara closed her eyes. “I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were silent again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should get off the phone,” Bruce said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Barbara said. “Roaming data and all...is Damian okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Bruce said. “I’ve barely seen him since this started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing fine. And whatever happens...whatever you choose...I will always be there for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know...love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call cut off. Barbara stared at the phone for a long time before she sighed and got up to face the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara didn’t hear from Dent for another three days. But then he appeared at her office at noon one day as though nothing had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara raised her eyebrows. “Did we have a non-refundable reservation?” she asked coldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Dent said. “But I did want to take you to lunch so we can talk about what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara sighed, but she had to admit at this point she was just being petty. “Fine,” she said as she shut off her computer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked to a small cafe down the street, not too crowded but still loud enough that no one would hear what they were saying. Barbara tried not to scowl too much as they sat down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was an awkward silence for a moment. “I am sorry that dinner wasn’t what you wanted,” Dent finally said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara stared at him. “That’s it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You insulted my friends after spending an entire evening bickering!” she said. “I think that deserves an apology as well!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t insult anyone,” Dent said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were insinuating things about Wally and Harley!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I merely asked a few questions,” Dent said. “Though you were quite drunk at the time...you had a rather more violent reaction than expected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked. “But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you misunderstood me,” Dent said. “I know that Doctor Quinzel had a horrible ordeal with her husband, and I can understand her taking up with the first person who came along. And Mr. West seems like a fine fellow, just a bit young and irresponsible. You can understand why I’d worry about you hanging around him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Pam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Isley and I have never been friends,” Dent said. “I can see why she would be opposed to our union. But I only tried to defend myself...I wasn’t trying to do you any harm or insult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seemed pretty insulting when you implied she was a terrorist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think the word ever left my mouth. She was the one who took offense at the idea that there are other things besides the environment that are important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara looked down. “I suppose I did overreact a little,” she admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfectly understandable,” Dent said soothingly. “Emotions were unnecessarily high. I hope the next dinner is calmer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do too,” Barbara said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less welcome was the next day when Pam walked into her office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara didn’t quite muster a scowl, but she did manage a rather petulant look. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wanted to say sorry,” Pam said, a bit defensive. “I know things were a bit out of control the other night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bit?” Barbara said. “Pam, you didn’t even try!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Pam said. “I didn’t try because I didn’t approve and I still don’t. Harley doesn’t, Wally doesn’t...this is a bad idea, Babs. Even if he isn’t a criminal, he’s not very pleasant to be around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce approves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you talk to Bruce?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The morning after. He said that I can make my own choices, and he’s right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam sighed. “Well, I guess that clinches it,” she muttered. “I won’t expect an invitation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pam, it isn’t...look, I’m grown up now. I don’t need your approval to date people...fuck, I never needed your approval! Or anyone’s approval!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you don’t,” Pam said. “But I do know it’s a lot easier to maintain a relationship when your partner gets along with your friends.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was he? Seemed to me he was being condescending and passive-aggressive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara raised her eyebrows. “Pot, kettle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re sticking with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babs…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not marrying him yet. I just think he’s a good man and you don’t need to judge him so harshly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I still think you’re making a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to think that.” Barbara turned back to her work. “Dismissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam glared at her. “Should I tell Harley and Wally the same thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell them what you want,” Barbara said. “I’m not turning back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara went to Dent’s house early on Saturday to help prepare for dinner. She knew that it was probably too nice of her, but well, he had been living a bachelor life for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent was in better spirits now that their argument was settled, chopping vegetables and whistling. Barbara scrubbed the table, humming along with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barbara, could you fetch me my recipe book?” Dent asked after an hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course,” Barbara said. “Where is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my office desk...I was going over it last night when choosing a menu.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surprised you chose to cook instead of ordering caterers,” Barbara teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One must occasionally put on the appearance of a common man, my dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara laughed and headed upstairs to the study.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent’s office was extremely disorganized. Barbara supposed it would be expected; after all, this was Dent’s space away from her and he was a very busy working man. The recipe book was not immediately available, so Barbara started rifling through the drawers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first two were rather dull, papers and the like. The third drawer was a filing cabinet. Barbara glanced through and then closed it, frowning when a slight clinking noise caught her ears. She pulled it back out, probably with more force than necessary as it came away from the desk entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara swore softly and lifted it to put it back inside, and then paused. In the bottom of the desk, underneath where the drawer would slide, was a set of keys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A very familiar set of keys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara reached out, mesmerized, and picked up the ring. These belonged to her father. Those were his desk keys, her school photo in the keyring, her mother’s wedding band attached to the chain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara’s breath caught and she forced down a sob. Why were these here, hidden in Dent’s desk? Why weren’t they in the possession of the police?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barbara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jumped and hastily shoved the keys down her top into her bra. She fitted the drawer back in as she’d found it and opened the next one, finding the recipe book. “Coming!” She went back downstairs, schooling her expression and walking slowly so the keys wouldn’t jangle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent smiled at her as she re-entered the kitchen. “Worried you’d gotten lost,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Barbara said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Your office is a mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well,” Dent said. “In your own space, it’s easy to get a bit...disorganized. I usually know where things are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m used to Bruce,” Barbara said. “His office is always clear...mostly because Alfred handles it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent chuckled. “If only we all had an Alfred,” he said. “Would you set the table, pet? Twelve places.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara nodded and started fetching dishes. She started humming again, hoping to mask any noise the keys might make. Dent went back to his cooking, not paying any attention to her. Barbara finished getting the table set up, then quickly ducked out of the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found her purse at once and stashed the keys in the inner pocket before pausing to breathe. Whatever questions or suspicions she had, they would have to wait--it was far too late to cancel the dinner, far, far too late to try and get out of Dent’s grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smoothed her hair and dress and returned to the kitchen, giving Dent a bright smile. “Smells delicious,” she said, putting on her best press-conference face and voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, my dear,” Dent said. He kissed her cheek and Barbara forced herself not to flinch away. “They’ll be arriving soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent must have noticed something in her facial expression. “Don’t be nervous. You’ve probably met most of them in events and meetings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure I have,” Barbara said. “But that’s a different capacity than meeting them as your...I don’t think girlfriend is the right word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bit juvenile, perhaps,” Dent conceded. “Partner, maybe. Significant other. I suppose it’s too early for fiancee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, Mr. Dent, depends on how this evening goes.” Barbara gave him another press-conference smile. “After all, if both sides oppose, an engagement would be...awkward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, not a fan of star-crossed lovers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Star-crossed lovers rarely have happy endings. I prefer not to be one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose that’s fair.” Dent smiled at her and Barbara had to force herself to meet his eye. “Still, even if your friends disapprove, there’s always a chance to make new ones together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Barbara said. “I suppose there is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was saved by the doorbell ringing. Dent sighed. “I’ll get it,” he said. “If you can finish up here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Barbara took over the cooking, doing her best not to let anything burn. No one could learn anything was wrong, at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She managed to get everything on the table, mostly correct, just as Dent started bringing people in. Barbara put on her best smile and went to join him, gripping her skirt to keep her hands from shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent smiled back and took her arm and started introducing her. Barbara barely heard half of what he was saying, though she did file away the names. Edward Nygma, Eddie Falcone, Os of course, Roman Sionis, Basil Karlo, Floyd Lawton, Thomas Eliot, Victor and Nora Fries…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And finally, Lady Shiva. That did catch Barbara’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ms. Gordon,” Lady Shiva said. “I have been wanting to speak with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you have,” Barbara said. “I wasn’t aware you were in town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it best to be in America for the moment,” Shiva said. “How does Cassandra fare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is well...she’s studying abroad right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In Sataria?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara’s stomach dropped. “France, actually,” she said. “Sataria is a bit unstable at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sataria is plenty stable. The current transition is merely a formality...I trust Mr. Wilson to keep it at peace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you say,” Barbara murmured, not having the energy to enter a discussion about foreign politics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, they moved to the dining hall soon after, and Barbara was relieved that she wasn’t seated anywhere near Lady Shiva. She instead sat by Dent, keeping her smile on in spite of her pounding heart, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, contacts of Dent’s usually meant contacts of Wayne Enterprises, which meant everyone in the room was at least marginally connected to Bruce in some fashion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do hope Sataria is agreeing with Mr. Wayne,” Doctor Elliot commented towards the beginning of the meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Less than he’d hoped,” Barbara squeaked out. “But he’s worried about his son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elliot shook his head. “Hard to believe that boy is already seventeen. The last time I saw him, he barely came to my knee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who would have thought,” Lawton commented. “Bruce Wayne, a family man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was general laughter around the table and Barbara forced another smile. “It suits him well,” she said. “He’s the second-best father I could ask for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general laughter died out a bit. “I was sorry to hear about Jim,” Mrs. Fries said quietly. “He was a very good man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked. “He was,” she agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent smiled and raised his glass. “To Jim,” he said. “The best father, with the most beautiful daughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glasses were raised and Barbara allowed Dent to kiss her hand, though she kept her eyes anywhere else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner generally went well, though Barbara didn’t remember half of what was said. She knew she must have put on a good performance, because Dent kept giving her little smiles, but she had no idea exactly what had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the guests had left, late in the evening, Dent turned to Barbara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...did the evening go well, my dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough for an answer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed. “I...I’m tired,” she said. “And I fear I have a bit of a headache. Would you be overly angry if I gave you one tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Dent said. He stepped over and kissed her cheek. “Good night, my dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something was wrong. Babs knew as soon as Jim walked into her room.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get your coat,” he said without preamble.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Daddy?” Babs said, even as she fetched her little green coat from the closet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim swallowed. He looked pale and tired, but determined. “Do you want to go see Dicky?” he asked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” Babs said. “But…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on, then,” Jim said. “I have to be somewhere in half an hour.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why can’t the sitter come?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s her night off, I can’t…” Jim faltered. “It wouldn’t be fair to make her work, she probably has plans.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs put on her coat and took Jim’s hand. He pulled her out the door and bundled her into the car at once. He didn’t speak as he drove, but Babs knew he was tense.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They reached Wayne manor in only a few minutes. Babs followed Jim up the steps to the door, where he rang the bell. Alfred answered at once, looking a bit concerned.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is Bruce in?” Jim asked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He and Princess Talia just left,” Alfred answered. “But Master Dick is still here.” He looked down at Babs. “If you would like to come in and say hello.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can you do me a favor?” Jim asked, his voice wavering.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Certainly.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can you watch her for a bit? I just got an emergency call and I have to go right now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alfred raised his eyebrows. “Of course, Detective.” He held out his hand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs looked up at her father for a moment. “Daddy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim bent down and hugged her tight, so tight. “I love you, Babs,” he whispered. “So, so much. And I’m always going to love you.” He kissed her cheek and gave her a little push toward Alfred.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs glanced back at him, but she stepped forward and took Alfred’s hand. Jim turned and hurried away.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Barbara slipped out of the house early the next morning. She hadn’t slept much the night before, but she couldn’t stand to be anywhere close to Dent anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, she finally had enough to get answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her phone pinged just as she was pulling up to her childhood home. She glanced down at the text message. Dent, asking where she’d gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tapped out a quick reply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had early appointment I forgot about. Will call.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She turned her phone off and headed up to the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father’s keys were heavier than her own, or maybe it was just the weight of the memories behind them. Her hand trembled as she opened the house and headed straight upstairs to his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stumbled slightly as she entered again, but recovered quickly and went to the locked cabinet. Her hands were shaking more violently than ever as she found the correct key and turned the lock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a moment of breathing before she was able to open the drawer. Whatever lay inside could be the key to her father’s death, and yet now that she was here…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Wally was right. Something about it was wrong. Barbara took a deep breath and pulled the drawer open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Files, full of papers. Photographs, reports, articles. Barbara started skimming them all. Missing girls, abducted from bars and other high-traffic places. All vanished without a trace, and no particular effort put into the missing persons reports. All women between the ages of eighteen and thirty, of all races and walks of life. All reported missing at a steady pace, one or two a week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara’s stomach turned as she kept reading. Police lookouts who were suddenly pulled by an emergency. Mysterious pay raises for certain people in the department. An officer or two who disappeared after working on the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then one last folder, containing three pages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One was a picture of Dent, younger and without the scar on his face, next to a young woman in a bar somewhere, and the other two were letters. Barbara opened the first one, addressed to her father.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jim--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to commend your dedication to the missing girls case. You’ve really given it your all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>However, we at the DA office feel you’ve taken up enough time and resources without results. We’re closing the file on this, and it is not to be re-opened without any hard evidence.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You will, of course, be given another assignment, one we feel would be a better use of your time and resources. There’s a hefty raise if you take it, and there’s a good chance for promotion at the end! I’ll personally ensure that you’re given anything you ask for on this case.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please meet with the commissioner tomorrow to discuss it. Of course, if you want to continue running in circles, it may well be the end of your career--and we wouldn’t want to disappoint Barbara, would we?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours sincerely,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Harvey Dent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara stared, the tears starting again. She set the letter aside before her shaking hands tore it, and reached for the other envelope. She opened it, eyes closed for a long moment before she started to read.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dent--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gordon is onto us. We need to move them all tonight. The warehouse, midnight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dusan</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The date was the same as the night her father died. Barbara dropped the letter as though it had burned her, her breathing quick. He had been found in a warehouse, a little before midnight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fumbled for her phone, cursing as it restarted. She scrolled through her contacts frantically, finally landing on the last one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone rang for an interminably long time before it went to voicemail. She bit back a scream of frustration as the automated message spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wally, it’s Babs,” she said. “I found my dad’s keys, and I looked in the cabinet. It was Dent, it was always Dent.” She was sobbing now, the tears coursing down her face. “I’m going back to confront him. I’ll leave the front door unlocked so you can get it all to the police.” She hung up the phone and sat for a long moment, working to make herself stop shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to be brave. She had to face Dent, and tell him what she knew. She swallowed a few times, and forced herself to stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pictures on the hallway wall still stared down at her. She stood in front of the last one of her father, the two of them together at the ball.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said. “I will make it right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned and left the house, hoping Wally would get her message and take the hint not to stop her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent’s car was gone when Barbara arrived back at the house. She debated for a moment about waiting, but then glanced at her own keyring, where the master key to his house still sat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara got out of the car and walked up the drive. She didn’t feel guilty or even scared as she walked into the house--he had invited her, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where to start? His office would be the obvious place, but she had already been through most of the desk and he was smart enough not to keep anything incriminating in an obvious place. His bedroom would be the next likely space, but Barbara shuddered at the idea of going in there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost three months. Three months of dating the man, getting close to him, letting him comfort and kiss her, almost accepting his proposal…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so far, the evidence pointed to the worst, skeletons in his closet that couldn’t be hidden forever…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. The locked door that he told her not to open. It had seemed such a small thing, but now, with everything she’d seen, it was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hurried up the stairs, hoping Dent wouldn’t get back until she was finished. She went straight to the closed door and turned the key. There was no hesitation this time as she opened the door…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And paused. She looked around before she stepped into the room, so dazed that she left the key in the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was covered in her and Jim. Pictures and articles, detailing Jim’s cases as a detective, her accomplishments as the third in command of Wayne Enterprises, photos of them both, ranging from when Jim was a young man to one that Barbara was sure had been taken only a few weeks before. All hung up, organized, annotated…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And every picture had been slashed or shot or otherwise damaged, red ink splattering the entire shrine like blood. Words had been written everywhere, not kind ones either. Barbara felt the bile rising as she took it all in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Near the back was a television and a VCR. Barbara knew she wouldn’t like it, knew she shouldn’t pick up the remote, but she did. She flicked on the TV and hit play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The video was grainy, caught by a security camera. A warehouse, blazing with fire, the black and white static buzzing over it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was Jim, just as he’d left her in Wayne manor all those years ago. His gun was out and he was running, shouting something though the video had no sound. He backed into full view of the camera--it was obviously intentional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second man followed. Barbara stared--that was Dent. His face was still smoking; clearly he’d been caught when the warehouse caught fire. Jim’s back was to the camera, and he had positioned himself so that Dent was in full view as he raised his gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim dropped his. He stayed still, didn’t move, didn’t flinch as Dent fired. Six flashes of light, Jim’s body jerking and then finally falling limp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent stepped over and turned him over with his foot. There was a pause, and Dent turned away, walking back into the inferno.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara was crying again, sobs choking her. She couldn’t turn away, not even as the video rewound itself and started over. She couldn’t look away from her father’s final moments. Not again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was barely conscious of the sound of the front door opening, or of footsteps coming up the stairs. She didn’t turn until the footsteps were close, too close for her to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent stood in the doorway, looking at her. The light from the hallway meant that she couldn’t see his face. “So,” he said. “You’ve betrayed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Betrayed you?” Barbara whispered. “Betrayed...you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you to stay out,” Dent said. “Don’t go poking your pretty nose where it doesn’t belong.” He stepped forward, and Barbara had to back away. The look on his face was...strange. Half-smirking, half-glaring. “But you’ve always been such a smart girl...I’m surprised it took you this long to come poking.” He slammed the door behind him. “But now...well, this was always the end goal. To have Jim Gordon’s daughter, trapped and at my mercy...a final revenge for this.” He gestured at the scar across his face. “A final revenge for losing me a nice paycheck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were women,” Barbara said. “Living people...and you were trafficking them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still am,” Dent said. “That shipment was lost in the fire, but there were others. We recouped the loss easily enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alysia…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, your friend. I had meant to grab you, but she was easier...and pretty. Easy to find a buyer. And it brought you straight into my lap. I admit, this has been so much better, playing the devoted lover and plotting your end. I did have a bit of a debate, though. A virgin sells for more, but you’re such a pretty thing...well, the temptation was high.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t touch me!” Barbara gasped. She had backed into the wall now, trying to keep a good distance between them. “Don’t you dare…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will do as I please,” Dent said. “Killing Jim wasn’t at all satisfying...necessary, yes, but over too quickly. But I didn’t want to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t hesitate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want to kill him.” Dent caught her wrists, pinning her to the wall. “I wanted to destroy him...torment him...make him suffer to the end of his days. Well, I can’t hurt him anymore...but hurting you is almost as good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised one hand. Barbara barely had time to throw her arm up before he hit her, hard in the eye. She gasped from pain, unable to cover as he hit the other one, and then he dropped her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fell hard. Dent kicked her onto her back and turned around. “Unfortunately, I have work to do,” he said. “But rest assured, my pretty, I will be back, and then...oh, then you will regret meddling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara caught her breath as he turned and left the room, slamming the door and locking it behind him. There was no deadbolt, no way to unlock the door from the inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a moment to sit up again. There was nothing she could do but sit here, surrounded by hatred, watching her father die over and over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t even bring herself to scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent was back hours later. Barbara had watched Jim die a hundred times, the tears running down her face faster and faster. She was thirsty, exhausted, and freezing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comfortable, my dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara whimpered. Dent grinned as he stalked toward her and kicked her down again. She couldn’t bring herself to move as he straddled her waist, pinning her with one hand on her throat and ripping her glasses off with the other just before the blows rained down, hard and fast. Her vision was blurring, her ears ringing, and she just wanted him off, wanted it to stop…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly his weight was gone. Barbara managed to open her eyes, though she could do little more than squint through the swelling. She managed to make out Dent struggling with another person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babs, run!” That was Wally. Relief washed over her as she struggled to her knees. She looked around, not wanting to leave her friend fighting an opponent bigger and stronger than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes landed on a blurry but familiar shape. She reached out and grabbed the gun, praying it was loaded as she took aim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dent threw Wally off him. Wally hit the ground with a grunt and Barbara fired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a ringing silence after the shot. Dent was staring at her, eerily still until he suddenly slumped to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Wally breathed. “Holy shit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara stared for a moment and then she lost it. She could hear screaming, hysterical crying, and it took a long moment to realize it was herself doing it. She couldn’t see anything, could barely hear anything above her own cries, couldn’t even think until Wally’s arms were around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” he said. “Shh, it’s okay...I’ve called 911. You’re going to be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She collapsed on him, her energy leaving her as she finally blacked out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course, Officer...yes...yes, I’ll tell her.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs sat up as Bruce came into the room. It had been hours since Jim had dropped her off at the manor, long enough that Bruce had given up and given her a set of Dicky’s pajamas to sleep in and sent both children to bed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s wrong?” Babs asked. “Where’s my daddy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed, looking far older than his twenty-two years. “Barbara,” he said, and stopped. He took a deep breath. “Officer O’Hara just came by. It...your father…” He swallowed a few times. “Jim went to go stop a criminal...and...and there was a shooting and…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No...no!” Babs scrambled out of the blankets. “He can’t be gone! He promised…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bruce caught her in a hug, squeezing her to his chest. Babs struggled for a moment, then collapsed against him, sobbing into his nightshirt. “He can’t,” she mumbled.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” Bruce said. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s gonna happen to me?” Babs sobbed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bruce sighed. “Social services will be here in the morning,” he said. “I’m going to talk to them about it, but...I see no reason why you can’t stay here, with me and Dicky and Talia...if you want to.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs sniffled and pulled away. “Really?” she asked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Really,” Bruce said. “I think...I owe it to him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a shuffling sound at the doorway. Babs turned and saw Dicky standing there, looking a bit awkward. “I heard crying,” he said.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Babs burst into a fresh wave of tears and Bruce got up. He said a few quiet words to Dicky. Dicky nodded and went to the bed. He sat down in Bruce’s place and hugged Babs as well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She clung to him and didn’t let go, even as Bruce turned out the light and they both fell backwards to cry and hug and finally sleep until morning.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara awoke to the sound of beeping. It took her a moment to realize she was in the hospital, lying in a bed. Her vision was still dim, but she knew it was Harley sitting next to her. She tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure she was successful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, sweetie,” Harley said. She leaned over and held a water bottle to Barbara’s mouth. Barbara swallowed gratefully and then spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long was I out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only the night...mostly exhaustion and dehydration, though the concussion and broken nose didn’t help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara swallowed. “Dent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s alive,” Harley said. “You shot him in the stomach, but missed everything vital. Wally told the police it was self-defense, and they believed it when they saw all the pictures he had of you...and your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The police are already on it...he’s going to be arrested once he’s released from the hospital. The evidence is overwhelming...even without your testimony, I doubt he’d ever be released.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked back tears. “I thought...I thought he loved me. Maybe I didn’t love him, but...I felt...special. Wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley leaned over and hugged her gently. “I know,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam came in hours later. Barbara could only look down as she walked over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Barbara whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pam drew her into her arms silently. Barbara leaned on her, the tears starting again as Pam stroked her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t your fault,” Pam said. “None of it...I can’t blame you for any of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have known better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They all say that,” Pam said. “But it’s never anything overt. Even all the red flags we were seeing...they weren’t enough to warn you about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara nodded and pulled back. “Do you know if they’ll be able to find Alysia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve already got boots on the ground,” Pam said. “Best if I don’t give you too much detail. I did put in an emergency call to Sataria...Dick will be home as soon as he can leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay...just...if you need funding or anything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce has already wired me what I need. You just rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can, or I will bring Lucy in to sit on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara pouted. “Fine. But don’t lock me out. And bring me my laptop, there’s too much to do at the companies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Harley came back into the room. “You’re not looking at any electronics until that concussion’s healed up. Your underlings can handle it for a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara groaned and laid back down. “Fine. Then I guess I’ll just sleep it off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you will,” Harley said. “And as soon as you’re done, you’re going to see a therapist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said. “I need that...I’ve needed that for a long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all have,” Pam muttered. “But that’s not my business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pot, kettle,” Harley said. “But yes. Not just about the relationship, but about your dad as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Barbara said. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara was released from the hospital a week later. Harley and Pam wouldn’t let her go back to the manor alone, so she acquiesced to staying with them until Dick got home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved through her days in a kind of trance. Rest, mostly, with therapy sessions and a few forced social interactions with Harley and Pam and Lucy. Nothing really held her attention for long. Her nights were filled with nightmares, her days...numb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing caught her attention until a few weeks later, when Wally finally swung by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara stood and hugged him at once, clinging tight. Wally hugged back and buried a kiss in her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad to see you standing,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Barbara said. “For saving me...for helping...for being here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I just needed to take care of my boyfriend’s sister,” Wally said. “Speaking of…” He smiled slightly and pulled back. “Babe, you can come inside now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara looked up, eyes wide as Dick came inside. She stared for a second. “Dicky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Dick said, and opened his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara rushed into them at once, launching herself into her brother. He hugged her, tight, so tight. “I missed you so much,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” Barbara said. “Oh, god, Dicky…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s all okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood there for a long time, clinging to each other like no one else existed. It took a long time for Barbara to speak. “Bruce? The others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll be a while,” Dick said. “Damian got himself crowned king, so they’re occupied setting up a democracy...but they’ll be back after the elections next year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Barbara said. “Okay...as long as you’re here...as long as I’m not by myself…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” Dick said. “And I’m not going anywhere.” He finally did pull back. “And...I was able to do some digging in Sataria.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara blinked. “Digging?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick nodded. “I found Alysia...she’ll be coming home as soon as Tim’s people have finished getting their evidence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was hurt,”  Dick said. “But she’ll live. She was mostly just shaken when I saw her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Barbara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air was cold, but Barbara could see clearly. She stared out the window, breathing deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick parked the car and looked at her. “Sure you don’t want me to come with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” Barbara said. “I...I need some time...alone, now that I’m ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Dick said. “I’ll be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Barbara got out of the car and walked through the gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d only been here once, years ago, and it took her a while to find the place. She stared down, tears pricking at her eyes before she could kneel down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Dad,” she whispered. “I...I guess I took too long getting here, but...I wasn’t ready.” She swallowed. “I just wanted you to know...it’s over now. Dent’s being sentenced in a few months...he pled guilty to your murder, plus all the other charges, so...so it’s over. Everything...everything’s over.” She laid her flowers down by the headstone, flowers Pam had helped choose. “He hurt me...I won’t pretend he didn’t. I won’t pretend it doesn’t still hurt. But...but I’m going to be okay. I have my friends, and Bruce, and Dicky...I...I’ve grown up. I just hope...I want you to be proud of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence around her for a moment before a lone robin started to sing. Barbara smiled slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>